


Handshake

by VampiricFaith



Category: JoJo no Kimyouna Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: General lack of hygiene, Magenta being the disgusting simpleton he is, Masturbation, Other, Snot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 23:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampiricFaith/pseuds/VampiricFaith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magenta Magenta takes the only opportunity he may have for a while to knock one out while traveling with Diego. Diego does not appreciate it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handshake

**Author's Note:**

> So I was frustrated at work and decided to soothe myself on my break by writing a story where an attractive man beats off.

Dawn was barely beginning to break when they started to head out, pinkish rays of light beaming out over the icy field. Diego glanced over his shoulder to his current companion, frowning ever so slightly. “Magenta, I’m not planning to stop until lunch. Do you need to do anything before we go?”

“No,” Magenta Magenta said, shaking his head as he stared down the sight of his shotgun. He was still recovering from the loss of his left eye, but at least that was something that one usually did with just one eye open. It comforted him, somehow, to know at least one bit of his livelihood wasn’t affected.

“You sure?” Diego lifted a brow. “I’m not stopping just because you can’t hold it.” His eyes rolled slightly, and he shook his head; it was like dealing with a child, minding the other man’s bladder for him as if dealing with an oversized four year old.

Magenta thought a moment, glancing off to the thicket of trees nearby. Lips pursing, he pondered a moment, a nasty thought brewing in the back of his head before getting up. Nodding, he placed his gun aside. “Know what, I think I gotta take a shit.”

“Hurry it up,” Diego said, reaching into his saddlebag to produce a tight wad of soft paper. He tossed it Magenta’s way, and fumbling, Magenta missed, his depth perception completely gone. Fluffy snow scattered as he dove in after it; Diego snickered. “And wash your hands in the stream after.”

“But the damn thing’s fuckin’ cold as a witch tit, Dio.” Magenta said, nose crinkling up as he brushed the cold powdery flecks off the roll of paper.

Diego glared his way. “Washing your hands after a go isn’t a debatable subject, Magenta.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Magenta waved a dismissive hand his way, shaking his head as he disappeared into the woods.

After convinced he’d walked long enough, he selected a spot against a thick tree, and gave a glance back over his shoulder to make sure that Diego hadn’t followed for whatever reason. Stooping down, ass nearly touching the ground, he tossed the paper aside, opened his pants and heaved out a sigh as he drew out his still flaccid cock.

He flicked the foreskin back and forth with his thumb a few times, grunting at the sensation. His singular eye shut, and he began to rock his hips, letting his thickening length slide in his palm; the other hand slapped light against the shaft. Drawing his fingers down, he traced over the vein in the side, licking at his chapping lips as he did. “Damn, it’s cold out here.” Muttering under his breath, he shivered, and his prick jumped hard in his hand.

He let himself slide down to a comfortable position, his ass meeting the cold snow with a thud as he began to tug harder. Magenta’s posture went slack as he drifted forward in the snow, his shoulders squared on the tree. The sound of his cock slapping in his hand made him shudder, and he paused a moment to check again that he’d not been followed by Diego, breath stilled, his eye widened as he went completely silent.

Moments passed. With relief, he found himself still alone and continued, waxing his hand from the trunk straight to the head, smirking as he admired his own length. Wekapipo had always insisted to him that his few successes with the ladies in town hadn’t been from his personality or appearance, and especially not his voice, but from his well endowed prick, a solid two inches longer than average and plumped up with a heavy girth. It took a bit of effort to get his thumb and middle finger to meet around it, and he gave a lewd chuckle at the knowledge that he was fat in the place where most other men wanted to be. If it were really the case, Magenta really didn’t care.

Wekapipo never really did appreciate his talents.

His other hand slid over his cockhead, wetting in the slippery goo oozing from the slit, then into his pants, relaxing against his balls; he ran his hand back behind them, working deft in the confines of his pants. Swirling his hips, grinding himself into the right position, one finger parted its way into his body, wriggling in carefully as it was lubed only in prerelease. Magenta’s eye rolled back in his head and he moaned through parted lips, starting to thrust the single digit in and out to flick over his prostate. His balls clenched up tight.

Letting himself grunt, he kept tugging with his other hand, getting closer and closer, thrusting into his own hand. His finger churned deep inside him, and he choked his hand around his cockhead, breath panting as he rose higher. Groaning, effort audible, his movements quickened into a furious pace, and finally, his eye squeezing shut, a rush went straight to his head. Magenta came.

His hand clenched from habit over the head of his cock. Traveling in close range with other men made him prone to trying to hide the evidence, but all he succeed in was splattering the seed into a sticky white mess. He spurted into his palm, shivering and moaning out unashamed as semen oozed between his fingers and dripped gooey down his wrist, into his coat sleeve. The few drips that escaped down his impressive thick piece splattered about the snow and he sighed as he withdrew his finger from himself, taking his hand out of his pants. He pulled his soiled hand away from his cock, delighting as the steam rose off it in the freezing dawn weather.

Without any hesitation, the finger that had been inside himself made its way to his mouth. He sucked it, giving another slight groan as he enjoyed his own taste, wondering idly if all men tasted this way, or if it was just him. That finger came out clean, and he drew his self-befouled hand to his mouth, licking at it. Bellowing out, he swallowed the goo on his digits, not even once considering the implications of his actions as the sticky, musky seed went down his throat.

“Magenta!”

He jumped, shocked back to reality as his name was called, freezing in place. Somehow in the course of his actions, Magenta had wound up on his back in the ice and snow. Sparkling frost clung into his curls and dusted his coat and pants, and he was much colder than he’d realized before. He sniffed, snot audibly slurping back up into his nose as the realization set in about where he was, and what he’d been doing, and who was nearby, looking for him.

“Magenta, come on! We need to get moving.”

“Coming, Dio!” Magenta tucked his cock away, sighing as he got up. He rubbed his right hand on his thigh, leaving slight white streaks as he tried to rub away the evidence of what he’d been doing; on a quick afterthought, he fetched up the paper. Brushing off some of the snow off of his body, he walked back out to the campsite, where Diego stood. There was nothing but annoyance on the other man’s face.

“You were out there ten minutes, Magenta.” Diego lifted an eyebrow as he looked over the other man. “Made all sorts of noise, and you’re a mess. Do you need an adult to accompany you to the damn loo?” Outstretching a hand, his long, claw-like fingers motioned towards the paper in Magenta’s hand. “Give that back if you’re done with it.”

Magenta gave a sheepish smile, offering it back; at least Diego hadn’t caught on to what he’d been up to. “Here.”

Diego paused then, hand shrinking back, not yet taking it. “…Did you wash your hands?” he asked, incredulous. The wary, untrusting frown he carried indicated he may not believe him either way.

“No,” Magenta said, huffing. “I didn’t need to. I didn’t go.” With that, he slapped the paper into Diego’s hand, strutting off to collect his things to leave. One hand went up, adjusting his hat, quite matter-of-fact, while his other hand went to his lips to suck up what still remained.

Diego stared. Using just the bare tips of his nails from his other hand, he picked at the paper. He turned it, gasping, then shuddering as it occurred to him exactly what had happened…

…And exactly what he was holding.

“Magenta?” Diego flicked the paper off, letting it fall wherever it may into the snow. It took him great effort to keep his voice calm and level, belying the abject rage and horror building inside him. “Magenta, what did you just do out there?”

Magenta turned back, one finger deep in his mouth, a simple, innocent smirk on his lips. “Nothin’ big.” he said, chuckling right after. “Why?”

“Oh my… F…fucking… You.” Diego blinked, his mind for a few moments unable to comprehend the emotions it was creating. He couldn’t articulate out a solid thought. “You… Did… and then you…”

Magenta Magenta would never forget the scream of rage mixed with disgust that then left Diego’s lips, or the way his face reddened and his eyes bulged, or the way his fist clenched up, claws forming as he became unable to contain himself.

He would also never forget the way that Diego scrubbed himself raw for nearly an hour in the icy river that winter morning.


End file.
